


Something's outside your window. (Or maybe it's inside)

by beebro_fuckboyd



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Blackmail, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned threats of non-con, Minor Violence, Not really Peterick, Protective Pete Wentz, Stalker, Threats, but it focuses on those two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:57:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebro_fuckboyd/pseuds/beebro_fuckboyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's been receiving messages. Sure, threats are normal for everyone in the band to receive, but these ones, these ones are different. A real danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He can hear us.

Patrick's terrified. He's genuinely terrified. He fears for himself, for his band, for his friends. The band gets threats all the time, sure, but it's never been so bad for him. He can deal with snide remarks about his weight and the generic death threats, but this, this is different.

It started with simple, boring and generic 'I know where you live, Patrick. I'm going to hurt you.' messages on twitter from an anonymous account. He didn't care, he got that all the time. It's gotten to the point of letters through his door most days detailing horrifically exactly what the man's going to do to him before he kills him. Things that would be too graphic for a snuff film. He gets calls in the early hours of the morning from a hidden caller ID, no talking, just heavy breathing. He gets texts the exact same as the letters when he's on tour.

The man seems to know where he is at all times. He went to see Star Wars at the cinema with Andy, and got a text later that night from the same blocked number. 'How was star wars? Good? I liked it too.'

It's been going on for months, but he won't tell anyone. The stalker's threatened to hurt his band-mates if he goes to the police or tells his friends, so he just sits in silence and takes it.

The worst part? He has no idea what he looks like, just that he's a guy. It could be anyone, he's constantly on edge.

He withdraws himself, too scared of the guy hurting his band to want to be around them all the time. By the time Wintour's nearly over, the band are sick of Patrick's off behaviour. He snaps more than normal, but if people try and leave him alone, he complains and follows after them like a lost puppy, seeming angry at who ever tried to leave for no real reason.

Pete's the one who finally finds out.

He and Patrick are sitting in their bus, Patrick's on his fourth beer by midnight and Pete's annoyed by his constant snapping. He's acting like a child, but he seems to be drinking more recently, so Pete can't help but be worried.

"You're gonna have to tell me what the fuck's up with you at some point, y'know?"

"Fuck off, Pete."

Patrick's sitting in his bunk, constantly checking his phone for messages from the guy. Not that Pete knows that. It's pitch black outside and Patrick's just had it described in graphic detail how he'd look tied to his bed. He's on edge and he doesn't want Pete bothering him. He _can't_ tell him.

He huffs and leans back against his pillow, closing his eyes and resting his hands behind his head. He feels sick, but it's not like he can do much about it, so he just keeps up his shield, refusing to let Pete in. His phone buzzes again and he sits up to check it, but he's too late. Pete jumps into his bunk and snatches the phone up, sick of the constant texts coming through and distracting him from his game of thrones marathon. His face drops as soon as he sees it, and reads back through some of the messages, only reading a couple before he feels sick.

"'Trick? Please tell me this is just really weird sexting, and you're totally into this." Pete's stomach churns when Patrick shakes his head and holds his hands out for the phone, suddenly looking smaller than he normally does, timid, even.  

Pete hands the phone over and studies Patrick's face as he's confronted with an image of the outside of their tour bus.  Patrick's pretty sure his heart skips a beat and he stops breathing until Pete's voice brings him back to a reality he really doesn't want to be in.

"Patrick, you'd better start talking."

"I-I can't- I can't tell you." Patrick seems to curl in on himself as he speaks.

"I think if some dude who's been saying, well, _that_ stuff to you is outside our bus, I deserve to know what's going on."

Patrick stays silent, just shaking his head with no intention of explaining and telling the truth. Pete knows he's going to have to scare Patrick into confessing. In truth, Pete's scared for Patricks safety from the few messages he's seen and the indication the man's outside the bus. he doesn't even know the half of it, how bad it is.

Pete shakes his head and tries to look disappointed as he crawls out of Patrick's bunk and starts to head for the door. He has no intention of actually leaving Patrick alone, he just wants to scare him.

Patrick follows seconds later, grabbing onto Pete's arm and shaking his head desperately. "No, no, Pete. Don't go. Don't leave me here. I don't wanna- Please, don't leave me. I'll tell you! Please!"

The older man huffs in annoyance when Patrick's fingers start digging into his arm. He pushes him back fairly forcefully and watches him tumble into Pete's bunk. Pete follows after, giving the vocalist a cold stare. Finally, he cracks. "There's this guy and- Well, I don't know who he is and- and- I don't- He- He keeps- I-"

Pete's demeanour changes completely when Patrick starts struggling to speak. He reaches out to rub his best friend's arm gently to try and prompt him to relax.

"This guy keeps sending me threats and- and he knows where I live, and my number and- and where I am at all times..."

"So... You have a stalker? You shoulda told me. 'Trick, we'll sort it. He can't get to you. We'll get you a body guard."

Patrick shakes his head desperately again, wringing his hands together. "I can't. I'm not supposed to tell anyone. He'll hurt you if I do. I shouldn't be telling you any of this."

"What does he say to you? This isn't just generic death threats, is it, Patrick? You're talking about a stalker here. Someone legitimately dangerous."

"It- It's just really graphic... Exactly what he'll do to me when he gets close. Graphic detail." He doesn't seem to want to say more than that, but Pete accepts it. It has to be hard for Patrick to admit he's vulnerable. Patrick's usually always the more composed of the pair.

His phone buzzes again before he can carry on explaining with a simple 'You're not supposed to tell anyone, 'Tricky.' from the hidden caller ID. A tiny whimper catches at the back of his throat when he tries to tell Pete and fails miserably. "He- He knows. He knows. He'll hurt you. How does he know?"

Patrick's about to suggest they hide in the back room of the bus when movement in the bunk under his across the aisle catches his eye. The curtain seems to move slightly and he freezes, grabbing at Pete's arm and pointing to the bunk. Pete's seen it too.


	2. Well, that's not supposed to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck. I'm having issues writing, and I only managed to write this much, bc I have no motivation. I'm sorry to the people who bookmarked this, awaiting more, I swear I'll get it done eventually. But for now, just take the very little more I managed to write.  
> Comments more than welcome... hint hint.

Both men are frozen in fear, neither of them wanting to leave the vague comfort of their close proximity and Pete's bunk. Patrick's the one to move though.  He climbs out of the bunk, Pete watching wide eyed and unable to follow, glued in place.

Patrick walks across the aisle on his toes, trying to stay silent though his head's screaming at him to grab Pete and get as far away as he can. He knows what this guy could do, what he wants to do, and he's terrified. But he has to check.

Slowly, he reaches out for the bunk curtain, his mind racing far too fast. He's surprised he's even managing to stand upright with the amount he's trembling. In one swift movement, he pulls the curtain back quickly. Nothing's there. No perverted stalker. No note. No nothing. So it was just paranoia. He didn't see the curtain move. He was sure of it, but there was nothing there. He was sure Pete had seen it too, but maybe he was just on edge.

He sighs and flops down into the bunk with his eyes closed, completely relieved he isn't going to die for the time being.

It's when he opens his eyes again, his blood runs cold, his mouth dries up, and he changes his mind about not dying there and then.

Patrick's eyes lock with another pair, dark and with blown out pupils. Patrick doesn't know what that look means, and he doesn't think he wants to. There's a man wedged in the space under his bunk, and in the overhang of the bunk below that he's now laying in, frozen in place with fear. From where Pete's still sitting in his own bunk, he can't see the guy, Patrick's alone in this. A tiny squeak catches at the back of this throat when he tries to shout for Pete to get out, or to help him. He's not sure which he wants. 

His vision starts to blur, his whole body shaking as he stares up at the man who's been tormenting him for longer than he can recall at that point. His head spins and everything he hears is muffled. He thinks he might be able to hear Pete asking him if he's okay, but he can't pinpoint the noise or the words, frozen solid in terror.


	3. You gotta speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? It's me. I'm back.

He manages to stick his arm out of the bunk, making desperate grabbing motions towards Pete all whilst never taking his eyes off the guy above him.  Pete frowns when he sees the sporadic movements, shifting out of his bunk and tilting his head at Patrick.

"'Trick? What're you doing? What- What's wrong?"

The only response is another pitiful whimper from Patrick's lips. Pete's just left to stand there, no longer scared, just confused.

He moves closer and takes Patrick's hand gently, still frowning at him when Patrick's hand grips at his as hard as he physically can, almost crushing his fingers.

"Patrick- Fuck, dude, let go. You- I get you're scared, but you gotta talk. 'Trick..." Patrick's grip only gets impossibly tight as he lets out another choked whimper when he tries to explain his stalker's within feet of his face, his blank face twisted into a vicious smirk, the hungry glint still in his eyes.

Patrick doesn't know what the man's doing as he opens his mouth. He's still silent, just staring down at Patrick. The vicious look on his face still remains as Patrick cottons on to what he's doing just before he feels the man's saliva hit his cheek. Patrick can't help but squeak, forgetting Pete's there and watching. His friend's brow creases in confusion as he sees the spit splash off of Patrick's cheekbone. It takes Pete a second to react and haul Patrick out of the bunk.

Patrick clings as tight to Pete as he can, his fingers locked around his back as Pete runs off the bus with him. He tries to set Patrick down to go back and 'confront' the man who's been threatening him, but Patrick won't let go. He knows 'confront', in Pete's books, means 'beat the shit out of', and as much as Patrick's desperate for Pete to do just that, he's terrified of the guy hurting his best friend. Pete finally slips out of Patrick's grip and runs for the door before Patrick can scramble after him. Pete just settles for locking the bus and calling the cops to tell them someone broke into their bus. He leaves out what the man's been doing, deciding it better to let Patrick come out with that when he's comfortable.

Only then does he turn back to his friend. Patrick's sitting on the concrete a few yards from the bus, his face sickly white and his whole body trembling. He's tried to pull his cap down over his eyes to obscure the unadulterated terror in them, but even metres away, Pete can feel the fear.

"Patrick, it's okay.. It's okay now, the cops are gonna come, and he'll never get to you. He won't get to you, I promise. You were real brave, I'd have been screaming. You'll be okay, you're okay-"

Patrick nodded a little, holding his arms out to Pete. He looked vulnerable, younger than he really was. He clearly knew it, but didn't care. His voice wavered when he spoke. "I- I couldn't move.. I couldn't-" Pete shushed him gently, sitting down next to his friend and pulling him into his chest to cuddle his shaking form. Before he could carry on trying to calm and praise Patrick, the back window of the bus smashed.


	4. He's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look what the cat dragged in. It's me, finally updating and begging for comments because I lost my motivation last time.

Patrick immediately flinches hard, cringing and trying to clutch at the back of Pete’s shirt tighter. He can’t move, no matter how much he wants to scramble to his feet and bolt for relative safety.

Pete, only for Patrick’s sake, doesn’t let go of him. He keeps his arms tight around his friend protectively, shushing and soothing him as much as he can, despite being terrified himself. It made sense now, this man was clearly dangerous, serious about hurting Patrick and serious about his ability to know where he was and get to him.

After a moment of baited breath, he manages to shuffle Patrick fully to have his back to the bus so that Pete can look over his shoulder in case the man comes for them. He never seems to. Either he’s still on the bus, or he’s run off in the other direction using the bus as cover.

The bassist doesn’t know whether he’s angry or just frightened. He knows his heart’s breaking to have Patrick now sobbing into his chest he’s that scared, but he can’t work out where his own emotions fall. Patrick’s always so composed, save for days where he’s lost his meds and ends up getting angry at everyone and everything. To have him sobbing into Pete’s chest, trembling and whimpering with every harshly sucked in breath is perhaps more frightening to Pete than the stalker himself.

He remains where he is, holding Patrick and trying to reassure him that no-one’s coming, that the man’s gone until the cops come and he has to let go to explain to them what happened. He doesn’t tell them what the man’s been doing it, leaving that to Patrick if he wishes to divulge.

 

He doesn’t.

 

He still thinks the man’ll hurt his band if he tells anyone else about him.

Instead, Patrick follows Pete’s story that someone just broke into the bus, that he doesn’t know who they are, didn’t see them, and that he’s just very shaken by it.

Of course, the cops follow the normal line of ‘Thank you, we’ll be in touch if we find anything’ after they’ve finished their search of the bus, finding nothing.

 

The band end up cancelling the last couple of shows on the tour. ‘Personal reasons’. Patrick pretends that he’s sick to Joe and Andy, unwilling to tell them. Pete’s the only one who can ever know, and even he isn’t supposed to. Pete won’t leave his side either, no matter what.

By the time the bus gets back into Chicago, Patrick’s still in bits, and it’s been almost a week since the traumatic event. Pete offers to let him stay with him, but Patrick refuses under the pretence he’ll just be putting Pete in danger. Pete settles for having Patrick call him every day before he goes to bed, just to make sure he’s okay.

The vocalist hardly leaves his house now, hardly eats anything he’s so paranoid and feels nauseous all the time. He’s had nothing though, no calls, no texts, no letters. Nothing. He thinks maybe the man’s moved on, given up.

Eventually he has to leave the house to go and get groceries, actually starting to feel the brunt of half starving himself. He stuck to busier roads, and was out in the open, not feeling quite so bad with other people around that would witness if anything happened. He manages his trip, no issues. Got his groceries, got home, and perhaps didn’t feel quite so terrified since nothing bad had happened.

 

When Pete had invited him out to go to a local bar, see a band and just get out of the house, he took a while to think it over, but accepted.

He actually had a good time.

Without thinking, Pete leaves him just outside the bar though to go further away to quieter area to call for a cab. By the time Pete comes back to take Patrick to where he’d ordered an Uber to, Patrick’s gone.


	5. Terrified blues

 He spends the next ten minutes frantically searching for Patrick, calling out for him and checking each street he comes to in the vicinity of the bar. He can’t find him anywhere. He asks anyone he sees passing by, almost frantic in the way he keep questioning anyone with “You seen a short guy? Chubby? Long blond hair, blue eyes? Fuck- Okay, okay, just look out for him-” and then dashing off for the next person he saw.

 

Twenty minutes passed and he was back at the bar again, leaning up against one of the side walls and dragging his hands down his face, anxiousness taking over and his worry clouding his mind. He can't think, can't even make himself move, not until he hears a sharp hiss, though he can’t place it.

 

He manages to drag himself away from the wall, despite the way his legs shake and he feels like any movement could make him throw up where he stands, to follow the noise when it becomes a softer whining sound.

His brow furrows as he follows the noise to the back alley of the bar, two shapes pressed up against the wall in the shadows. For a moment he’d thought it could have been Patrick, but after a soft moan from one of the figures was heard, he’d changed his mind. He starts to back out of the alleyway, his head down and his shaking legs getting worse by the second. He’s lost Patrick, he thinks the worst, fears that something terrible happened to him, and really, he’s right.

Just as he turns his back, he hears the beginning of his name, just a quiet and desperate “Pe-” before it’s muffled and choked off. He turns back again, approaching the pair carefully, making sure the figure pressing the other to the wall didn’t hear him.

The closer he got, the quieter the hisses became and the more he could pinpoint them as coming from the man pressed up against the wall.

By the time he got right behind the couple, his blood had started to run cold. He could see something glinting in the dim streetlight outside of the alleyway, held up against the smaller man’s neck.

He was pretty sure his blood stopped pumping completely the second he focused on the terrified blue eyes peering at him, only just visible in the bad lighting. He could only just see them over the other man’s shoulder and in the shadow, but he’d recognise them anywhere, and he’d recognise the sheer terror in them even before that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long, I lost all motivation bc no comments, and seemingly have forgotten how to write. LMAO


	6. Is it over?

Pete isn’t thinking. He never wants Patrick to fear for himself or his band again. Despite the threat of the knife he could just about make out in the dim light, his arms latch around the man’s ribs and pull him backwards, away from the terrified vocalist.

He only has a second to watch Patrick slide down the wall, cowering where he stands before he had to turn his attention back to the psychopath that had attacked him in the first place. He can’t afford to hold himself back, even if he’d have wanted to, and really, he doesn’t care if he kills this man right there and then, he wants him never to be able to even think about Patrick again.

Their fight only lasts a few seconds, more just a wrestling match, Pete trying to grab the knife and the stalker trying to just get away. Pete’s the ultimate winner, the adrenaline surging through him enough to give him the upper hand even against a taller opponent.

He grabs for the knife after he’s wrestled it out of the man’s hand, never even stopping to think as he brings it down into the back of the man’s leg, incapacitating him almost immediately. He still isn’t thinking as he brings it down again, and again, and again. He never hits anywhere vital; he’s just intent on causing the fucker as much pain as he can for ever even thinking about hurting Patrick.

 

Pete’s only protecting him, but Patrick’s mortified at how angry he is, how much damage he’s doing and just how much blood there is.

 

He’s the one to beg Pete to stop, to just call the cops before Pete ends up being the one arrested on a murder charge. Eventually, Patrick’s desperate and frightened pleas force Pete to stop, to drop the knife and to back away to his side as his shaky hands dial 911. He knows they have enough evidence to prove it was just self defence, that he won’t be taken to jail, but he knows Patrick’s so worried, and he can never say no to him, so he has to stop, but only for Patrick.

 

 If he had his own way, he’d have killed him right there in the alleyway.

 

He’s again ripped back to reality by Patrick’s timid little voice, wavering as he speaks. “Is- Is it over..?”

“It’s over…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably done. I hardly get any comments anymore so like, writing feels kinda pointless.  
> I'll eventually finish my other fic 'remember me' (a centuries/reincarnation AU) when I have the mental capacity

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has like, any fic requests for me, my Tumblr is Beebro_Fuckboyd, message me or something. Or just come and kick my ass.


End file.
